


A Picnic Most Fowl  OR The St James' Park Story

by LTRisBACK



Series: Five times Crowley tried to propose, and one time... [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley has plans, Ducks interfere, Other, Post-Scene: The Bandstand (Good Omens), Proposal-fail, Teenagers being horrible, The re-visit the band stand, Violence Towards Animals, for good reasons, words are said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTRisBACK/pseuds/LTRisBACK
Summary: Crowley creates the perfect afternoon for his angel, in order to have the perfect memory to go with his proposal.  Unfortunately, someone has other plans....
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Five times Crowley tried to propose, and one time... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923421
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	A Picnic Most Fowl  OR The St James' Park Story

**Author's Note:**

> So, I went to Nenchen and I said...should I use the Ferris Wheel Story as the start of a 5 & 1 series? And Nen naturally screamed and yelled and made me do it. Thanks Nen! And to everyone on Ace Omens who commented and shared ideas!

Crowley carefully placed the last elements of the picnic on the rug and leaned back to assess the aesthetics of the whole picture. He only had a minute or so left before Aziraphale would arrive, and he was determined that this time everything would be perfect. 

With that in mind, he adjusted the ice bucket a touch, so that it perfectly complemented the two champagne coupes that sat next to it. The blanket was, naturally, Aziraphale’s tartan. After a final survey, Crowley nodded with satisfaction and stepped back to wait. Aziraphale should be along shortly, having tied up his last few loose ends at the bookshop for the week. 

They had taken to spending most of their time at their cottage in Devil’s Dyke, but a few days a week Aziraphale still liked to come into the shop. Not for any business purpose, naturally, although he did hold occasional random open hours. Instead he did it in order to adjust the collection, choose a few to take home and generally baffle, mystify and thwart would-be customers. One did not, after all, abandon centuries of enjoyable bastardry just because one had made some major life changes. 

Crowley, not wanting to mess up his careful arrangement, stood beside the blanket waiting for Aziraphale. He didn’t have to wait long, soon seeing the blond head bobbing along the riverside path. With a quick pat to his breast pocket to double check that everything was in place, he raised a hand to wave. Attracting Aziraphale’s attention to their carefully selected position, just barely in the shade on a perfectly level patch of ground, no ants or other creepy crawlies to create problems, he moved to usher him over towards it. 

“Crowley! It’s delightful!” The brilliant smile on Aziraphale’s face seemed to suck the air from Crowley’s lungs, and he made several inarticulate noises as he assisted Aziraphale in settling himself on the blanket before joining him. 

Opening the basket, he began to lay the first course out on the blanket. A plate of charcuterie, with the best fresh olives from the hills of Syria, cured meats from their favourite farms across Europe, a variety of Aziraphale’s favourite cheeses and of course, a selection of the best crackers from Fortnam and Mason’s. A plate of devilled eggs, and another of little melon balls wrapped in prosciutto and lastly thinly sliced rye bread, a small pot of sourcream and a fillet of hot smoked salmon. 

Aziraphale exclaimed with delight, lifting one of the eggs to his lips, eyes closing with enjoyment as the delicate, creamy yolk mixture melted in his mouth. 

“My dear, you have out done yourself,” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley, absolutely delighted. “This is wonderful.” He popped the second half of the egg into his mouth, humming with pleasure, his shoulders wiggling delightfully. 

Crowley gulped, ended up putting the entire half-egg into his mouth and swallowing without chewing, an instinct he generally resisted quite successfully. His human corporation did not cope with that style of swallowing quite as...gracefully...as his serpentine form would have done, but he managed not to actually choke. He quickly picked up the bottle of champagne and gently eased out the cork, managing not to spill a single drop of the liquid as he carefully filled the delicate glasses and extended one to Aziraphale. The angel’s fingers brushed gently over his as he took the delicate cut crystal, and he smiled at Crowley as he turned the glass slightly in his fingers. 

“Here’s to...us,” Crowley’s smile was just a hint more tentative than Aziraphale’s, but the brilliantly shining one he was met with soon strengthened it. 

“To us,” Aziraphale touched his glass so delicately to Crowley’s that the ring of the crystal was almost inaudible. They sipped and sat back, slowly eating their way through the plates of treats, chatting lightly about a variety of topics, mostly around days they’d spent in the park in the past. 

Once the appetisers were gone, Crowley opened the basket once more, this time to draw out a loaf of warm, crusty bread, a bread knife, a soft goat’s cheese, and a mix of tomatoes, fresh garlic and basil and the best balsamic vinegar money could no longer buy. He cut thick slices of the bread, smeared them with the cheese and then topped them with the tomato mixture, arranging them carefully on a plate as Aziraphale watched. The angel beamed at him, and he smiled back and extended the plate of fresh bruschetta. It was not perfectly traditional bruschetta as the bread was not toasted but Aziraphale had admitted a liking for the flavours of bruschetta on freshly baked bread some time ago, and Crowley was pulling out all the stops to give his angel the perfect picnic experience. 

Aziraphale bit into the bruschetta, eyes closing in ecstasy as the flavours exploded, the freshness of the tomatoes, the sharpness of the vinegar, the richness of the garlic and basil all complimenting each other perfectly. The rich, salty sourness of the creamy goats cheese underlaid it all, and Aziraphale took a sip of his champagne to clear his palate slightly before taking a second bite. 

Crowley sat back to watch his angel eat, satisfaction spreading through him as he watched him smile. Eventually he started on his own piece of bruschetta, but he spent most of his time watching his angel eat rather than eating himself. 

Finally, the bruschetta was finished, and Crowley reached into the basket one last time, drawing out a plate covered in cannoli, then a beautiful teapot, with matching cups and saucers, milk jug and sugar bowl. Crowley was just starting to prepare the tea, feeling his palms starting to sweat knowing that the moment was coming, when it happened. 

It being a large, feathery, flapping body slamming into the side of Aziraphale’s head while making the most siren-like noise Crowley had ever heard a duck make, falling to the ground, then launching itself up at the angel again. Its flapping flipped the plate of cannoli, which smashed into the teapot. The teapot, which had survived the entire trip in the picnic basket without getting chipped, cracked, cooling even a single degree, heating any of the food or over steeping the tea, gave up the ghost, splitting down the middle then splintering, sending hot tea splashing in every direction. 

Aziraphale and Crowley both yelled, throwing themselves backwards, away from the scalding liquid, and the duck rushed at Aziraphale again. 

“Right, that’s it,” Crowley stood, hands fisted, and moved towards the duck, only to dodge as a second feathery invader rushed at him, beak open, while the first duck flew up and whacked at Aziraphale with its wings, clearly trying to drive him somewhere. 

Aziraphale dodged backward, and the duck moved to drive him forward once more. The second duck, or drake rather, was extremely intent on keeping Crowley from interfering, but he was having none of it. He stepped around clearly furious waterfowl, dodging a vengeful peck, and exchanged a look with Aziraphale. 

“I think they want something, and not just to ruin our lovely picnic,” Aziraphale looked most put-out as he surveyed the wreckage of their lovely afternoon, pouting even as he dodged the blows from the bird’s wings. 

“Right, well, I don’t think we’re getting away with not finding out what they want,” the last word came out on a yelp as the angry drake went for him once more, nipping him hard on the ankle before darting back and waiting, open beaked, between Crowley and where Aziraphale was being driven away. 

“Look, we’ll come, but we’re coming together,” Crowley lowered his sunglasses and glared at the drake, which glanced back over its shoulder then sort of slumped in place and took a step slightly to one side to allow Crowley to join Aziraphale. The duck, glancing between the two of them and the drake, set off at a fast waddle, looking back to ensure that they were following. Several other ducks joined the drake and moved up behind the angel and demon pair, and the drake voice a particularly demanding quack, stepping forward menacingly when they didn’t move with the alacrity it wished. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and they exchanged a faintly amused but also concerned grin as they set out to see where exactly the ducks wanted them to go. 

They were led across the park, the ducks moving faster and faster until the two man-shaped beings were almost jogging. When they rounded a corner, it immediately became obvious why the ducks had wanted them (or Aziraphale, anyway. They were ambivalent towards Crowley’s presence.) It was the duck nursery, multiple nests hidden amongst the grass, and several very stressed ducks were shrieking and racing around, trying to drive away the teenagers who were laughing and chasing ducklings, scooping up eggs from as-yet-unhatched nests, and one had even grabbed a duck and was dangling it from its feet. The dizzy bird was giving the occasional flap but it had obviously been held that way for a while and was tiring. 

Without any conscious thought or effort, Aziraphale’s wings exploded into being. So unconscious was it that only a swift miracle on Crowley’s part kept the angel’s corporation clothed, as his wings had torn their way through in their rush to become part of the physical plane. The angel mantled protectively, expression icily furious, and stepped towards the teens. Crowley made a conscious effort and his own wings appeared, held higher than Aziraphale’s. 

The teens froze, an expression of absolute terror on their faces. Crowley snarled at them, furious. Sure, he might occasionally dunk a duck, but they enjoyed it! The younger ducks made it a game, even if it annoyed their parents. They considered him a bad influence on the younger ducks, never mind that he was a bad influence in their generation, and so many generations back that no duck could speak of a family memory of a time when the dark man and the light man had not been a part of their world. 

The teen holding the duck released its feet, his face slack with terror and his fingers just falling open. Before the duck could fall to the ground, Crowley had snapped and it found itself gently caught and lowered, rotated so that it landed feet first and could instantly lower itself to sit. Around the nursery, eggs and ducklings both found themselves suspended in midair by angelic and demonic miracles, then found themselves miraculously sorted back to their places. 

Aziraphale’s head cocked to one side as he considered the humans, looking them up and down. “What to do with you,” he murmured. “Your thoughts, love?” he turned his head to Crowley, eyebrows raised. 

Crowley smirked at the squirming youths, who shuddered under his gaze. “Oh, I think being caught out by the police doing something TRULY embarrassing, something that will necessitate at least a year’s worth of community service, malfunctioning mobile devices, and nightmares of being helpless and manhandled for at least the next month?” 

Aziraphale smiled and nodded. “In addition to that, they will not forget what happened here, but they will not be able to communicate about it in any way,” he smiled at them in a way that made them shiver in horror. With a nod to each other, the angel and demon snapped, one pulling their hand down, the other drawing it up. The boys vanished, and Aziraphale turned in a slow circle, surveying the damage that had been done to the nests. There were broken eggs splattered on the ground, and Aziraphale’s face went sad. Crowley began stalking around, assessing each nest, applying the occasional miracle to heal small amounts of damage. They couldn’t fix everything, as much as they might wish to, but they did take the time to place rather stringent protections on the area. Finally, they had both done as much as they could do, and they stepped away. 

The ducks waddled around their nursery, checking the nests, ducklings and particularly the duck who had been swung around. 

Crowley tucked his wings away and slipped his arm through Aziraphale’s, giving it a small tug. The angel startled slightly, coming completely back to himself, and swiftly tucked his own wings away, glancing around worriedly. When no one appeared to have seen them, other than the already dealt with teens, Aziraphale allowed Crowley to draw him back in the direction they had come. 

They wandered along the path, this time paying attention to their surroundings, and froze when they went back around the corner. The bandstand was directly in front of them, and Crowley swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly tight. It was just...there, and it hit him right in the centre of his chest with a suddenness he had not been expecting. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale’s voice was small, and when Crowley looked over at him, it was as though he was seeing his own pain on the angel’s face. Aziraphale turned towards Crowley, eyes bright with tears. “Crowley...I...I never told you…”

“I know, angel,” Crowley tried to soothe him, his own voice shaking, to remove the need for words but Aziraphale shook his head violently. 

“No, I need to say this, I need to tell you,” Aziraphale drew himself up, dashing his free hand under his eyes to wipe away the tears. “Crowley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, but I couldn’t see any other choices, and I was panicking. We both know that there really wasn’t anywhere else we could go and I...I couldn’t…” his voice faltered, his head dropping forward, and Crowley interrupted. 

“Aziraphale, I know. Really, I know. I forgive you, Angel. It’s alright. Shhhh, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, not even to Alpha Centauri.” He drew Aziraphale into a hug, murmuring comfortingly, and at that last Aziraphale hiccuped a laugh. Crowley felt his own cheeks growing wet with tears, and he swallowed, trying to force them down. After a moment’s thought, Crowley snapped his fingers and transported them to the backroom of the shop, the picnic basket on the floor, and guided Aziraphale to sit on the couch. The angel curled up against him, and Crowley brought his wings into the physical plane once again to wrap him up, cocooning them both in warm, feathery darkness. They held each other, and cried a little more, and ended up falling asleep curled up together on the couch. 

While the afternoon had not run according to Crowley’s plan, he found he couldn’t regret the closure that they had achieved. They had both needed to shed those tears, Aziraphale had needed to say what he said and Crowley had needed to hear it. With a sigh, Crowley put the ring away to wait until he had planned the next opportunity.


End file.
